The Orzo-Shaped Shinobi
by ShivanSlayer
Summary: A stormy afternoon leaves Arnold and some of his friends stranded at his house with no power. This leaves them to listening to Arnold's Grandpa telling yet another tall tale, the tale of the little known story of Naruto, but of course, with Grandpa's own special twist, as certain characters behave suspiciously similar, to some of the residents of Hillwood.


The concept for this story is probably one of the most basic, and admittedly uncreative things ever, and that is, to give characters of a story characteristics of characters from another setting. But, it has been an idea that has intrigued me for sometime, and I've been watching Hey Arnold as of recently, and the possibilities in Naruto's setting could set up some really fun stories.

Since Naruto is 700+ chapters long, taking Masashi Kishimoto (by the way, he owns Naruto and the characters) more than a decade to complete this story, I will likely finish it once someone teaches a pig how to fly. But, while I attempt to rewrite Naruto with a Hey Arnold (owned by Craig Bartlett, as well as Nickelodeon) twist in vain, at least the chapters that come out, should be fun to write (fun to read, I'm not so sure, you're the judge of that).

On that note, enjoy.

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Awkward Transition**

The crash from Thor's great hammer filled the sky, as Odin's tears flooded the dank and murky streets of Hillwood. It was 3:00 in the afternoon, school had just been finished, yet to a casual, and rather dim observer, he or she would reckon that it was 8:00, and prepare their bedtime routines so they could not find rest until 1:00 the next day.

As school, rather blandly labeled PS118, it's red bricks soaked with the moisture that was once held back by the great gates of heaven (Mr. Odin isn't too pleased with the shift in religious metaphors). From this blocky structure of institutionalized, subjectively effective education, the occupants scattered. Various colors of umbrellas, raincoats, and plain clothes for those who were foolish enough not to prepare for the afternoon forecast could be seen among the crowd.

A distinct clot could be seen among the swarming throng of grade school children. They were among the larger of the kids, but not the largest. 4th graders, those who have been christened among the upperclassmen for the first time, about to enjoy the dominance that the 5th and 6th graders enjoyed.

One of these gathered 4th graders, identified by his dark brown skin, his oversized red t-shirt, incredibly tall afro, and bored scowling face, was the first to open his mouth.

"Man! This is the worst! Nowhere did it say it was going to be this bad in the afternoon!"

"You know Gerald, " responded another of the fourth graders, the shortest of the group, and possessing one of the most peculiar shaped heads in the history of heads, that of an oblong football, "Weather reports aren't always accurate."

"But Arnold," said the tallest of the group, in an accent that identified him as originally belonging to one of the southern areas in the States, "Don't this mean that the game we've planned for today at the Vacant Lot-"

"Gerald field," corrected the 4th grader named Gerald.

"- is cancelled?" he finished his question. But to emphasize the direness of the situation at hand, he did add, "That really bites."

"Yeah, and?" questioned a rather shrimpy kid, whose top was completely concealed by a now-soggy hat.

"I'm just sayin'" replied the tall one, "It really bites, what in the heck are we going to do after school now?"

Another strike from Thor's mighty hammer interrupted the conversation the young ones were having with each other. It also served to unsettle them, particularly the largest of the group. The largeness, however, was not due to height, but more due to girth.

"AHHHHHH! MOMMA! I WANNA GO HOME!" he cried, and began darting away from the group towards the busses, only to find that they were not there.

And to answer this mysterious situation, a far older, and grubbier gentleman dressed in a white short-sleeved button-down shirt came panting out the door.

"Students!" he exhaled, as he tried collecting his breath from such a long jog from the office to the messy, chaotic outdoors.

"I'm afraid the busses are experiencing difficulties trying to navigate the rain. I'm afraid they will be delayed until the storm, and the roads clear up."

A collective groan could be heard over the thunder and the rain, as the combined despair and frustration of the students easily overpowered mother nature, if only just for one brief moment.

And cutting through the frustration was a speeding car, dirty green in color, and appearing as if it was fresh off the assembly line ... 40 years ago.

In this high-velocity vehicle, a bony woman of advanced age commanded the steering wheel. She was in a green-puffed gown, suited for work in the kitchen, not for navigating the roads at great speeds. Not that it really mattered to her, as her face wore a look of pure joy as the tires of the vehicle sent water cascading in great waves, parting the great (rather quait) sea of puddles that lay on the road.

"I haven't had this much fun since I went whaling with Mr. Ahab," she said to herself, and no sooner did she mention that did she make it in front of the school.

Arnold's eyes widened as he saw the vehicle, piloted by his insane grandmother, both in surprise and relief. As the car slowed to a halt, he approached it, avoiding the passenger seat door swinging open.

"Hop aboard sailor! It's time to go forth to the new world!" shouted the old woman.

Arnold was about to follow her orders, but hesitated as he remembered others who would not be so fortunate to have such a psychic, and possibly insane grandparent arrive in the nick of time. He turned to those said poor unfortunate souls, who returned the glum, rather guilty look that he was giving them.

Arnold turned back to his Grandma, who was casually whistling, not paying any heed to Zeus' rage of the sky.

"Hey Grandma?" he asked, managing to get her attention.

"Yes skipper?" she responded, appearing to read the concern on his face, which seemed to reduce the insanity she regularly showed in her eyes.

"I was just thinking," Arnold hesitantly said, not wanting to cause his Grandma undue trouble, but also remembering the peril his friends may have found themselves in, and pressed on, "I don't think my friends are leaving this school any time soon, is it okay if you're able to ferry them home?"

"Of course!" she proclaimed, resuming her act, "There's always room for more sailors on this ship. Tell our crew we set sail on the double!"

Arnold ran from the car back to his friends, with good news, and a smile on his face.

...

His brilliant idea to stuff his friends in his grandparents' old car was not looking so clever after 5 minutes of bumpy and turbulent driving, courtesy of the thunderstorm and his Grandma. 4 kids had to be squeezed into a 3 person back seat, and unfortunetly, the large kid, known as Harold, was among those in the back, making for quite a difficult.

Arnold was fitted with Gerald in the front, and while the front seat was plenty spacious for two nine year olds, the unique geometry of the two boys did cause some unforeseen problems.

"Arnold," Harold, clearly frustrated, but trying to sound calm and collected, "Please don't swing your head all to suddenly ... I'm getting nailed by..."

He trailed off as he realized he was about to delve into one of Arnold's pet peeves, the referencing of the unusual shape of his head. While many passer by's and even friends have made casual notes of the football-like appearance of his skull, one individual in particular made it the centerpiece of the torment of his existence. An individual Arnold was secretly glad was not present in the already squished car. As bad as the situation was, she would have made things even worse.

But, an idea did pop into his head to alleviate this particular situation. He turned to his Grandma, whose eyes were devilishly aflame with delight as she commanded the vehicle to tear up all asphalt in sight.

"Grandma, I'm sorry to change plans all of the sudden, but is it alright if the guys came over to the boarding house, until their parents could pick them up? It would be a shorter drive."

Arnold immediately turned to the back to address his friends, who were still cramped due to Harold's incredible girth. Unfortunately, the shrimpiest of the kids, known to them as Eugene received the worst deal, as he appeared to have bruised his eye, probably during one of their sharp turns. In response to Arnold's, and Gerald's concerned, he held up a hand and said 'I'm okay."

"Guys," Arnold began, "We should probably stop at my house, and wait for your parents to ferry you back home. And if they can't we can do something to kill the time."

The struggles of the back seat immediately. The skinny one, simply known as Stinky, voiced his approval, as well as the rest of the back seat's approval by saying, "Yeah, that sounds like a fine idea Arnold. And since we got a baseball game cancelled today, I reckon we could replace it with another swell activity."

"Right, then it's settled!" Arnold said excitedly, and caught up in the moment, he then added to his statement, "Grandma, set sail for home!"

"Right you are skipper!" Grandma shouted, laughing as the vehicle modified its course for the boarding house.

...

The car skidded to a halt in front of the boarding house, in all its dreary glory. The passengers of the car quickly debarked from the vehicle, eager to be free of their cramped, and rather damp prison. Soon enough, all the boys found their way to the main kitchen, enjoying milk and cookies provided by Arnold's grandparents. While the boys were enjoying their snack, the Grandfather was scolding Grandma for her recent endeavors.

"Pookie, why can't you warn me when you're about to embark our fine vehicle on a trek through wind and lightning? And do you even have a license? I can't remember ..."

Grandpa then went on about the various things he might have forgotten within the recent week.

But the storm was not so forgiving, despite all the boys being secured inside the boarding house. After another mighty flash, followed by a great clash in the sky, all lights in the house, as well as many on the block, went dark.

"AHHH" shouted the Grandpa, "Pookie! Where's the flashlight?"

In response to his panicked query, a flashlight did ignite, providing partial relief from the temporary darkness that had swallowed the room, the holder of the flashlight being none other than Grandma. Still, this temporary relief did not distract from the fact that the lack of power limited the boys' options of after-school fun even more.

"Shucks! I guess we're stuck here for a bit longer," lamented Stinky, "And we can't tide the time over with some good ol' television."

"Oh no!" reacted Eugene, "I'm going to miss the season finale of The Last Air-guitarist!"

"I don't think it should be that bad, guys," Arnold reassured, though he had doubts himself. He had limited knowledge of how a power plant operated, being only nine years old, and not precociously endeavoring to learn the tricks and trade of transformers, amplifiers, voltages and ect. But, he could guess, at least from the intensity of the storm, that the blackout would be substantial.

This did also mean , as Stinky mentioned, that they would be stuck for longer at Arnold's house, as driving on rainy dark roadways with no lights on the street, and no power on the power grid was generally risky, and would at least require extra caution, which meant driving slower. But luckily, even with Arnold having his doubts, there was at least another person able to see the silver lining.

"C'mon boys, Arnold's right!" added Grandpa to Arnold's reassurance from earlier, "Afternoons with no power and rain outside are the best! At least from a certain point of view, I think. Anyways, in my days, when we couldn't play outside, we would tell stories..."

"Oh come on Grandpa!" Arnold objected, "Are you really that eager to tell another tall tale of your adventures?"

"I wouldn't mind hearing some of Arnold's Grandpa's crazy stories," Sid interjected, rather intrigued by tall tales.

"Stinky?" Sid asked his much taller friend, to see if he was invested in the idea.

"I'd reckon it's better than sitting bored on our butts for a while."

"I wanna hear a story!" Harold shouted, "Arnold's Grandpa seems like he would've been a really cool dude in the past!"

"Hey!" shouted Grandpa all of the sudden, "Are you implying that I'm not cool now?"

"Well I," Eugene said, preventing Harold from defending his statement ,"would be delighted to bear witness to one of Arnold's Grandpa's tall tales."

Arnold sighed, having been subjected to his Grandfather's whimsical stories of over-the-top feats far too many times. He saw that Harold was not objecting to the idea, and that the others seemed rather invested in hearing a Grandpa tale. Perhaps, however, the real reason he did not want to hear another story, was that Grandpa typically told tall tales of his missing ...

It didn't matter. If his friends were so interested in hearing whatever story his Grandpa had in his rather intelligent, yet slightly kooky mind, it would be selfish of him to deny them. He looked back at his Grandpa, who was giving him the puppy eyes (rather embarrassing), and gave him a nod.

"I'm glad you guys are all in," he thanked, but then said, "But I admit, I wasn't really planning on this, and the storm has fried my creative juices (wonder how much I have left)."

"Fear not!" he reassured, bolting into the family room, then returning with a very large, in girth, height and width, book. The cover contained artwork carved into the hard cover of the book, appearing oriental in design, but the title, large and centered for all to observe, was clearly in English, bearing a name that meant nothing to anyone in the room, "Naruto".

"Uh, Grandpa?" Arnold asked, "isn't that kind of cheating, reading from this 'Naruto' book?"

"Technically, it's not a book!" and to demonstrate, he flipped it open to a random page, displaying not a gigantic wall of text, but panels of illustrations, as well as speech and thought bubbles.

"A comic book?" the boys questioned in unison.

"Wait," Stinky interjected, "Ain't a comic book still a book? I mean, it still has the word 'book' in it."

"I'm going to ignore that statement," Grandpa said, looking rather sternly at Stinky, who just returned a blank stare. He decided to defend his actions further, following his own advice, and ignoring Stinky's statement.

"This isn't no ordinary comic book boys, no sir! It's one of them comic books those chinese people make overseas! I worked with some of those guys once, like Oda Nobunuga, and Hayao Miyazaki. Oh, I remember that Miyazaki, loved fighting and futuristic stuff. Hated flying though, couldn't stand the mere thought of it, I think he gets plane sick. Anyways, I think they call them Mangos, to reference the rich and juicy content that they contain. This particular Mango was made by some fella named Mika Kobayashi."

"So your plan is to read this 'Mango' to us?" Gerald asked him, clearly skeptical, "How can you even do that? It's a comic book! The only thing you read are the thought and speech bubbles! And maybe some of the sound effects. The rest of it is pictures! How exactly are you going to read a picture to us?"

"I'm gonna describe 'em to ya! With my own twist of course. I did say that the creative juices were lacking today, so I just need a guideline to keep them flowing."

"But if you do this, it's kind of like stealing-"

"- And that's what great artists do," Grandpa concluded, and signaled that it was the end of the argument. He took center stage, figuratively and literally, as the flashlight was focused solely on him, though he had to tell "Pookie" to avert the flashlight beam just a bit, for he had difficulty making out the different comic panels. Once Grandma made the appropriate adjustments, Grandpa began rattling off his descriptions of the comic panels, with grand, rather descriptive adjectives.

And like always before, the words he spoke began to take a life of their own in Arnold's mind, as the tale of Naruto began forming from just mere words, into a vivid imagination...

 _Once, in a village hidden in the leaves, known by its inhabitants as Konoha, a great nine-tailed fox demon attacked it. This attack ravaged the land, and killed many souls both innocent bystanders and soldiers alike. The damage to the village was great, and the beast proved to be too powerful, even for some of the greatest warriors the village had to offer._

 _But, one man, the head of the village, called by the villagers the Fourth Hokage, found the strength and the will to subdue the fox. The mad demon's power could not be completely annihilated, so to neutralize the threat, he sealed the power away, into a newborn baby no less._

 _This power brought with it a curse, a curse of loneliness, of hatred by the inhabitants of the village, who had experienced the mighty power of the demon fox, now contained within this baby's belly._

 _This is the story of how this baby overcame that curse, through hard work, determination, but most importantly, a good heart, and the willingness to look on the bright side of life, even in his darkest chapters._

It was morning, and nearly time for the day's activities to be underway. The apartment he was in was basic, nothing special. As a twelve year old living on his own, with limited financial help from the village no less, it would be folly to expect something special.

But the morning was a new beginning, another chance to improve himself and achieve his lifelong. This encouraged the boy to rise, and to wipe some of the cornflower hair from his eyes, that adorned his orzo-shaped head.

A new day, was a step closer for Naruto Uzumaki, to fulfill his lifelong dream of become the village's next Hokage.

* * *

Spoiler alert: it was his sled.


End file.
